


The Dry Spell

by Roxie Ann (pluvial_poetry)



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Community: picfor1000, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluvial_poetry/pseuds/Roxie%20Ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days without a shag? I think that's a new record.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dry Spell

  
[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/pluvial_poetry/3424327/28981/28981_600.jpg)   


"If I go any longer without a fuck I might as well change my name to Vince Tyler," Stuart announced with a dark glare down at his outfit. The blue shirt set off his eyes, but he wasn't quite convinced that these trousers did his arse full justice. Then again, Vince couldn't seem to take his eyes off of him, Stuart noted surreptitiously. Sod the trousers, he decided. As it was he wasn't expecting to be in them for long.

Vince nodded sagely at that, a wry tilt to his mouth. "Three days without a shag? I think that's a new record." 

That was completely unfair. Stuart had gone longer without, as Vince well knew. Just last year when he'd had that horrid flu bug for one. And Vince was one to talk. If Stuart was having a dry spell, Vince was in the midst of the bloody Sahara. "Two days. I'm having someone tonight, it doesn't count." He took another glimpse of himself in the mirror; appreciating the lean, tight look of his body and grinned in anticipation. "I'd fuck me."

Vince hummed a little noise of agreement under his breath, then flushed and cleared his throat anxiously. “What kind of party is it then?" 

Stuart frowned, distracted as Vince had obviously intended. "I don't know. Drinking, dancing, shagging. Are there different kinds of parties?" he said over his shoulder, heading into the living area of Vince's flat and grabbing his jacket off the kitchen counter.

Vince followed behind him, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Of course. Themed parties, costume - those are the worst. Dinner parties, birthday parties--"

"Come and see for yourself if you like, Vince!" Stuart interrupted, already exasperated by the litany. What difference did it make what kind of party it was? He could shag a bloke in costume just as well as one over appetizers. That was the whole point of going to this stupid party. 

"Can't," Vince shrugged, taking a seat on his couch. "Wasn't invited, was I?"

"I'm inviting you!"

"It's fine, Stuart. I have plans if you must know," Vince said with a smug tilt of his head.

Stuart snorted disparagingly. He knew what that meant in Vince-speak. "You don't have plans. Watching cheap science fiction on the telly isn’t a plan."

Vince shrugged, not bothered. "It's going to be brilliant. The original version of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" is first. Can't imagine why they remade it in the first place. The specials effects have held up quite well over the years."

"I'm leaving," Stuart said, moving toward the door with wallet and keys in hand, staring at the back of Vince's head. One last chance for Vince to change his mind about being a sad bastard, staying home with his couch and television for company, his cock probably gone atrophied from disuse.

"Cheers. I'll see you later," Vince said sunnily, attention on the television now, already caught up by puppets with strings on them invading the earth with torches painted to look like ray guns.

Not that it mattered. Stuart had the whole night and a whole city of men waiting for him, Vince would only be in the way, nattering on at him about nothing, and pouting when Stuart inevitably left with someone. Still - Stuart slammed the door behind him when he went. Vince should realize what he was missing.

*

"Come back to mine," a man breathed against Stuart's ear, later on in the night. Stuart leaned away slightly. He was fit enough. More Vince's type though. Butch, mid-40s. Thought the sun shined out of his own arse.

"Not interested," Stuart told him, and it was the truth. He didn't want to fuck him. Hell, he didn't want to fuck anyone here. A three day dry spell officially then, Christ, what was wrong with him?

The man shot him a nasty, insulted glare, storming off to the other end of the bar.

Stuart tipped his drink back, wincing as the alcohol burned all the way down, before he slammed his glass back on the bar. He'd had enough. Time to go.

*

Stuart banged on Vince's flat door at half past 3.

"How was the party?" Vince asked, bleary eyed and yawning as he locked the door behind Stuart, before leading him by the hand to the couch, holding him steady as he stumbled.

"Complete crap. Bar was filled with pathetic older men; bald patches and gold chains, the lot of them, not a shag in sight. Christ, I'm going to regret drinking that disgusting cheap liquor tomorrow. Had to drink my fucking weight in gin to even get a proper buzz; watered down American shite," Stuart said, only slightly slurring, his head done in as he sprawled across Vince's lap, tucking his face against Vince's stomach to stop the spinning.

"That's too bad," Vince said lightly. He ran his fingers through Stuart's hair, a gentle tug on the curls. He looked the same as always, Vince did, when Stuart looked up at him. Those wide blue eyes, the soft curve of his belly. Nothing special, that was Vince Tyler. Certainly not worth giving up a shag for. Or three days worth of shags as it were. So why was he here, instead of back at that bloke's flat or still at the party or down at Canal Street? 

"Mmm, it's good you're here though," Vince said in his low, sleepy voice. He drapes a blanket over Stuart's legs, cuddling his head against his belly in a way that he'd probably be too self-conscious to do if it were any other time of day. It‘s nice. Not the way Stuart had planned to spend his night, but now that he was here, with Vince, he could at least admit to himself that he was happier than he would have been anywhere else.

Stuart blinked slowly, drawing in a deep breath, cupped protectively against Vince's body, in the middle of a dry spell but with an oasis in sight. "Yeah. It is."

**Author's Note:**

> photo copyright: Edmond Valerio


End file.
